Interrogation Room Baby
by Samantha Novak
Summary: Fill for a prompt at the LJ SPN Kink Comm. Prompt can be found inside as it's too long. The full team appears; FF can't tag them all.


"What have we got, Garcia?"

Garcia shuddered, turning her back to the blank projection screen and aiming her remote behind her as she pressed a button to begin.

"St. Louis, Missouri," the Omega said. "In the last two months, six people have gone missing."

She pressed a button until six images filled the screen, six different people of varying races, ages, genders, and class. Three crime scene photos also appeared under the person whose body it was, all three necks mangled and bloody.

"Three of their bodies have been found; the last three, including our most recent abductee, have not. The most recent missing person, an eighteen-year-old Omega named Sheila Jones, vanished two nights ago. Her mom reported her missing when she didn't come home from work," she added.

"It says the bodies of the three recovered were exsanguinated," Reid pointed out, tone thoughtful.

"Our unsub doesn't seem to have a type either," Rossi, a Beta, added. "Male and female victims; teens and young adults; white, African American; Alpha, Beta, and Omega... It doesn't add up."

"Two of the victims were Alpha," Hotch, an Alpha himself, pointed out. "That requires strength or more than one person."

"So, we may be looking for a team," JJ, a Beta, concluded. "One of them has to be an Alpha. Two Betas or two Omegas wouldn't be able to take down an Alpha."

"Not necessarily," Reid, an Omega, countered. "Think about it, female unsubs, no matter their secondary gender, use methods other than physical force to subdue their victims. A Beta or Omega could take down an Alpha if they use methods to incapacitate them first. Especially if an Omega uses their gender to lure in the Alpha first."

"Was there any sexual component?" Morgan, another Alpha, asked, brow furrowing as he flicked through the file on his tablet.

"None," Garcia confirmed.

"Not surprising. Our victimology is so varied; there is no one type of person here," Lewis, another Beta, added, her expression confused and thoughtful as she scanned the files. "This isn't a sexual crime. It does seem almost ritualistic with the blood draining though."

"They all have ligature marks on their wrists but not the ankles which makes me think they were tied and hung from something which might support that theory," Reid added.

"But if it were a cult ritual of some kind, wouldn't the blood have been drained a bit more neatly?" JJ asked. "The blood was drained from their necks. They're all... mangled. It looks almost like an animal attack."

"That's what the St. Louis police thought at first," Garcia confirmed. "But with the disappearances occurring at the same time, they weren't sure."

"And that's where we come in," Hotch said authoritatively, rising from his seat and collecting his files. "Wheels up in thirty."

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"What'cha got, Sammy?"

"Uhh, St. Louis, Missouri," Sam said, scrolling through an online news article. "Three bodies have been discovered, all with their throats chewed on, all drained of blood."

"Sounds like vamps," Dean confirmed before biting into his sandwich.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "But get this – there are three other missing persons who haven't been found. Sheila Jones, the latest one to disappear, a teenager named Darcy Brown, and a man named Thomas Underwood who was one of the first to go missing."

Dean hummed thoughtfully as he chewed then swallowed. "So," he said as he picked up his beer and took a drink to wash down the rest of the sandwich. "They're either keeping some as snacks and totally draining the others, or..."

"Or the ones that haven't been found have been turned," Sam finished for him.

"But this is definitely vamps," Dean said, gathering their empty plates, his empty beer bottle, and Sam's milk glass.

"Yeah. Definitely," Sam said.

"Well, we got nothing on Amara, and Cas is out tracking Metatron, so why not? You up for this?" Dean asked, eyeing Sam's midsection.

Sam unconsciously slipped a hand under the table to cover the barely noticeable bump under his flannel. At almost full term, his belly didn't show which had worried the two the entire pregnancy. They'd sought out a hunter-friendly doctor near Lebanon, Dean insisting Sam rest at the bunker as much as he could, but all checkups revealed the baby was healthy and growing properly. The doctor's best guess was that, despite Sam and Dean being six-foot tall men, their baby was just small, Sam's body easily large enough to carry it without much stretching. He still sported a bump, but it was easily concealed behind his shirts if one didn't know to look for it.

"I'm fine, Dean," Sam assured his brother. "I've had to help on hunts while pregnant already, you know."

"Yeah, but you weren't so close to your due date then. I don't want to risk my niece or nephew coming while we're away from your doctor. Really, you shouldn't be hunting at all – it's too dangerous," Dean added. "Not just for the baby's safety, but yours. Some Alpha could smell an _unmated_ Omega and lose his shit. You're not claimed, Sam. You got pregnant off a one-night hookup. I may be an Alpha, but I'm not your mate; my scent on you isn't gonna be enough to stop some sicko from doing anything to you."

"I'm fine," Sam repeated, pushing himself to his feet and collecting his laptop. "I'll tell you if I can't do something or feel anything, I promise. And I may be an Omega, but I know how to fight, and I'm as big, if not bigger, than some Alphas. I can handle myself."

Dean eyed him warily for another moment then nodded. "You better. Go get packed," he ordered not unkindly before disappearing into the kitchen to clean up their lunch dishes so they wouldn't sit for several days.

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"Okay, let's go over what we know about the victims," Hotch said once they were all settled on the jet. "At first glance, they might not seem like there's a common thread, but there has to be. So, what do we know?"

"There are four females and one male," Morgan stated, flicking through his tablet. "That could mean he primarily goes after females, and the men were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, or they're substitutes."

"Secondary gender is mixed as well," Reid, added thoughtfully, flipping through his paper copy of the case file. "Two Alphas, a Beta, and three Omegas. As Morgan said, that could mean he's targeting mostly Omegas, but I think it's too mixed for that. I don't think secondary gender matters to the unsub."

"Age seems varied, but if you look at the youngest and the oldest, they range from eighteen to twenty-five," Rossi pointed out. "He's going after young adults, possibly in that range himself."

"So, we're looking for either an Alpha or a pair of some kind, in his or their early- to mid-twenties," Lewis concluded.

"We need to know more about the deaths we have and how our victims were taken," Hotch added. "When we land, Reid and Morgan, head to the M.E.'s, see what they can tell us about our three dead victims. Rossi and Lewis, head to the latest crime scene and see if you can find anything to support having two unsubs. JJ and I will set up at the police headquarters and contact the families to see what they can tell us about their loved ones' routines before they disappeared. They may have been watched and targeted specifically."

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"So, where do we start?" Sam asked as they deposited their bags in their motel room. "We know how our three dead bodies got… dead," he finished lamely then shook his head and continued. "But we still have three missing people to locate."

"I say we start with Sheila Jones. She _was_ our latest to go missing, right? The report says she didn't come home from work," Dean said. "We interview her family and friends, and we figure out who she liked to hang out with or if anyone creepy was seen hanging around."

"Good idea," Sam agreed. "Alright, I'll change first."

He picked up the bag containing his Fed suit and moved toward the bathroom, pausing halfway there to press a hand to his belly, exhaling sharply.

"You okay?" Dean asked, pausing in digging through his own bag.

"Yeah, baby's stretching, I think. Felt like he's pushing against my stomach," Sam explained, grimacing as he rubbed small circles into his belly to calm his child.

"Still positive it's a boy, huh," Dean said with an amused chuckle. "I still say you're too small to be carrying a boy."

"The size of the baby doesn't determine it's gender, Dean," Sam said with a roll of his eyes before disappearing into the bathroom.

"That's true, I guess," Dean called toward the closed door, unable to resist getting in one last jab. "I mean, look at you – you're huge _and_ girly."

He chuckled at his own joke, pulling out his own suit while he waited for Sam. After a few minutes, Sam exited the bathroom, Bitchface #12 in place – the "I feel uncomfortable, and it's making me self-conscious, and I don't like it" face. His hands cupped the underside of his belly which was more pronounced with the dress shirt stretched across it and tucked into the suit pants which strained slightly around the swell.

"You okay?" Dean asked, abandoning his clothes to immediately cross to his brother, hands coming up to skim across the swell of Sam's belly. No matter how mild it might be, any hurt or discomfort in Sam triggered a hands-on reaction in Dean, the elder Winchester needing to touch, to seek out the problem, to try to fix whatever was bothering his little brother.

"It's more obvious now," Sam complained, pushing Dean's hands away. "My clothes aren't tight, just a bit uncomfortable, but they make my stomach stick out more than my other clothes."

"You okay to do this?" Dean asked, taking the hint and dropping his hands.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I'm good. Just hurry up and change so we can get out and get this over with. The sooner I can put my own clothes on, the better."

Ten minutes later, they were back in the Impala, crossing town to the police station. In order to talk to Sheila Jones's family, they needed her address and family members' information which meant dealing with the police department first. It should have been easy: get in, flash their fake FBI creds, get the info, and get out.

Of course, even a simple hunt has its hiccups.

When they stepped up to the front desk and flashed their badges, neither had a chance to say anything before the officer there waved a dismissive hand and pointed to a back room.

"Your buddies are already here," she said. "You can just go on back."

Sam and Dean exchanged confused looks then Sam peered into the room the officer had motioned to, shaking his head at Dean to indicate it wasn't another hunter friend of theirs.

"You know what, we just need an address," Dean said, laying on as much charm as possible without overdoing it as he leaned on the counter into the officer's space. "No need to bother our colleagues when you can just pull it up real quick, right?"

"I suppose," the woman said, blushing and hiding a grin as she peered down at her computer. After a bit of typing, she scribbled the address on a Post-It then tore it off and held it out to Dean.

"Thanks, you're the best," he said as he took it before the two made quick exits.

"So, the real Feds are here?" Dean asked as they slipped back into the Impala.

"Looks like," Sam agreed. "There was a blonde woman and a dark-haired guy in that room, neither of which I recognized as hunters we know."

"Yeah, I didn't want to risk talking to them just in case they weren't hunters we don't know yet," Dean agreed. "That's why I got the address from the officer at the front desk."

"Better safe than sorry, yeah," Sam said before wincing and arching his back slightly, pushing a hand between himself and the seat to knead at an aching spot.

"Dude, you sure you can handle this?" Dean asked, taking his eyes off the road for a second to eye his brother.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam growled. "An aching back isn't anything new, Dean."

"And that's _all_ ," Dean clarified. "No cramping or anything?"

"No cramping. I'm _fine_ ," Sam snapped. "Let's just go talk to Sheila's family and see what they can tell us."

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"I've laid your three victims out for easier access and covered them for now," the medical examiner, an Alpha woman by the name of Dr. Armstrong, said after making introductions.

"Thank you," Reid said as they gathered around the first table, and Dr. Armstrong pulled back the sheet to reveal the torso and arms of the first body to have been found, a white man in his mid-twenties. His neck was noticeably less bloody than his crime scene photo, but it was still obvious something had ripped into his throat; he also now sported a Y-shaped segment of stitches across his torso from the doctor's autopsy.

Morgan, hands clad in purple latex gloves, picked up Dr. Armstrong's clipboard with notes to look through them as she explained what she'd found.

"They all died of blood loss," she explained. "None of them had any left. They all bled out from the same type of wounds around their necks. At first, we thought this was done by an animal attack because they're so torn up."

"What else could have caused this?" Morgan asked.

Dr. Armstrong shook her head. "Other than some kind of animal? I don't know."

"Could this have been done by a human in a violent rage?" Reid asked.

"It's possible," the doctor said, nodding. "But he'd have to also be very in control to only destroy one body part. Other than the ligature marks on their wrists, only their necks took any damage. The rest of their bodies were untouched."

"Can you tell us when or how long they may have been tied up?" Morgan asked, carefully lifting one of the corpse's wrists with his gloved hand to examine.

"I'd say they were tied up for at least two days before being killed," Dr. Armstrong said. "Their stomachs an intestines were completely clear, too, which makes me think they'd been starved during their time in captivity, but it was the blood loss that ultimately killed them."

"So, he's holding them for some time before killing them," Reid concluded. "Were there any drugs in any of them? Anything that may have incapacitated them?"

"If your guy used anything like that, it cleared their systems before they died. I didn't find anything," she said, tone apologetic since that bit of information couldn't help them.

"Thank you for your help," Morgan said, offering a charming smile which earned a small smile from the doctor before they departed.

"So, he's starving them, holding them for a couple days, and violent enough to mangle their throats, but in control enough not to harm any other part of the body," Reid summarized as they headed back to their SUV.

"But why just the necks?" Morgan asked. "What significance does destroying their throats have for him?"

"And we still don't know how he's catching them," Reid added as they got into the car and Morgan started the engine. "If he _is_ using some kind of drug to make it easier to kidnap them, he's keeping them long enough that it can't be detected after death."

"So, we still don't know if we're dealing with one sneaky son of a bitch or a team of some kind," Morgan added, sighing heavily in agitation. "I hope the others found something useful."

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"I really hope the real Feds haven't been here yet," Dean said as he pulled up to the curb outside Sheila Jones's residence.

"Yeah, but if they haven't been here, they might show up," Sam countered as they got out of the car, pressing a hand into his back with a grimace that he immediately hid as soon as Dean rounded the car. "It's probably easier to lie to the family and say we need more info than risk the real Feds showing up while we're here."

"True," Dean agreed as he rang the bell.

A few moments later, the door opened to reveal a woman that could have been Sheila when she hit her forties. The bland scent of mated Omega mixed with the slightly bitter scent of negative emotions like worry and sadness mixed with a floral perfume wafted from the woman. She had wrinkles around her eyes which seemed dull and wet with unshed tears.

"Mrs. Jones?" Sam asked as they dug in their coats for their badges. "I'm Agent Tyler, this is my partner, Agent Perry. We'd like to ask you a few questions about your daughter's disappearance."

"Oh, Agent Jareau asked me to come to the police station to talk to her," Mrs. Jones said, clearly confused.

"Yes, well, we were in the area on another lead, so we thought we'd just come to you. Agent Jareau is aware of the change," Dean smoothly lied.

"Oh, well, come on in," she said, stepping aside to allow them to enter. "And please, you can call me Carol." She led them to the living room where they both sat on the couch while she took an armchair. "Can I get you anything?" she asked, glancing down at Sam's middle.

"No, we're fine, thank you," Sam said, unconsciously placing a hand to his belly.

"I remember being pregnant with my Sheila," Carol said wistfully. "She never stopped moving. May I ask, how far along are you?"

"I'm, ah, actually almost full term," Sam hesitantly replied.

"And the FBI still make you work?" Carol asked, sounding almost shocked.

"He doesn't do anything strenuous," Dean interjected. "Talking to families, paperwork, that kind of thing."

"Ah, I see. Well, what can I help you with, Agents? Anything to help you find my daughter soon," Carol said, squaring her shoulders.

"Can you walk us through the night your daughter disappeared? Did she follow the same routine every night after work?" Sam asked.

"You're thinking this wasn't random and someone was watching her?" Carol asked.

Sam nodded, expression apologetic and understanding. "It's possible."

"Well, Sheila always works nights," Carol said, eyes lowering to stare at the coffee table. "She's definitely a night owl, and hates being up before ten in the morning," she added with a small laugh. "She works at a clothing store, always closes up the store."

"Does she work alone at night?" Dean asked.

Carol nodded. "Yes, anyone else working with her leaves right at closing time, but she's scheduled to stay to pull the register and lock up. She was so proud when the manager stopped scheduling her just until closing and trusted her to close up. She's only alone for a half an hour," Carol explained, voice becoming almost hysterical. Dean could smell the distress coming from the woman.

"You're doing great," Sam soothed, leaning over to gently grasp her hands which she immediately held tightly, the sour, distressed smell clearing as Sam used his calming, Omega nature to soothe her. "Have you seen anyone around that seems out of place? Makes you feel uneasy?"

Carol shook her head. "No, not around here. I don't visit Sheila at work often, so I can't say about strangers around the store."

"That's okay," Sam assured, releasing her hands and leaning back again. "Thank you for your time. I'm sorry we upset you."

"Thank you," Carol said softly, wiping away a stray tear or two as they stood.

She showed them out, and Sam gave her a card with their numbers on it, asking her to call them if they thought of anything. Dean added on that they'd relay it to the rest of their team when she questioned why she couldn't just call Agent Jareau at the station. They said their goodbye and the two made their way down to the car.

"So, what next?" Sam asked as they pulled away, rubbing a hand across the underside of his belly.

"Check out the store Sheila worked at, see if anyone there has seen anyone strange hanging around?" Dean suggested. "It's either that or risk going near the real Feds at the police station for info on our other missing people to see if they all were near the same place. That could be where our vamps are hunting."

"Store," Sam decided. "The less we're anywhere near the Feds, the better."

"Agreed. You know, it makes it really hard to do our jobs when they get in the way," Dean complained. "And don't say 'They're doing their jobs.' I know that. But they're not after some psycho human. If they find the nest, they're dead."

"I know," Sam sighed, reaching behind himself to knead at his back again. "We just have to do the best we can to find the vamps before they do."

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"What did the M.E. say?" Hotch asked as Reid and Morgan entered the conference room.

"The necks were the only damaged parts of the body," Morgan said. "Other than the marks on the wrist from being hung up for about two days before they died."

"They were also starved, but cause of death was the blood loss," Reid added absently as he examined pins on the map to represent disappearances. He picked up a marker and started connecting them to determine the kidnapping zone.

"So, he's angry enough to rip their throats, but in control enough that their necks are the only place he inflicts harm to," Hotch concluded.

"Did you have any luck with the families?" Morgan asked.

"We've spoken to all except Sheila Jones's mother. She was supposed to come in half an hour ago, but she never showed," JJ said, sounding concerned.

"Try calling her back," Hotch ordered. "If she doesn't answer, we'll go check her home. Nothing about the unsub's behavior suggests he'd go after his victim's families, but with so many disappearances and deaths, I'd rather be safe than sorry."

"Agreed," JJ said as she pulled out her cell phone to call Carol Jones.

"Reid, have you narrowed down the area he's hunting in?" Hotch asked, moving across the room to his youngest agent.

"Based on the locations where all six people went missing, and the locations the bodies were found in, he's staying in this area," Reid said, moving his marker in a circular motion around the circle he'd already drawn. "Also, I was going over the missing persons reports again, and I noticed that all the victim went missing at night, and the three bodies we have were found in the early morning which means they were probably dumped at night as well."

"So, our unsub is nocturnal," Hotch concluded. "And he's hunting in this area. I'm going to get a statement to the PD, warning people from going out at night alone in that area until we catch him."

"Guys," JJ called before Hotch could leave, crossing the room with her phone in hand, call still connected. "Mrs. Jones said two agents already came to her home, wanting to ask about her daughter's disappearance. When she said she'd spoken to me about coming here, one of them told her I was aware of the change of plans. I never told any of our agents to talk to her because she was coming here, and based on her description, it _wasn't_ any of ours. She said they were two men, both over six feet. And she said one was a pregnant Omega. I told her they weren't ours and asked what names they gave. She said they told her they were Agents Tyler and Perry."

"Tell her to come in immediately," Hotch said. "I want her to speak to a sketch artist. We'll get the local PD looking out for two men impersonating federal agents."

JJ nodded and stepped away to finish speaking with Mrs. Jones.

"Missing persons, murders, and now two guys impersonating the FBI?" Morgan said incredulously. "What the hell is going on around here?"

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"Okay, so, no one else at Sheila's store saw anything suspicious," Dean growled as he tugged his tie loose before they'd even fully entered the motel room. "And I'm betting no one saw the other vics disappear either."

"Vamps are usually opportunistic hunters, so that makes sense," Sam agreed, immediately undoing his belt and slacks with a wince.

"Dude, if it was that bad, why didn't you say anything?" Dean asked.

"I'm fine," Sam assured, waving a hand dismissively. "I think all we can do now is head over there tonight, and hope the vamps come out again."

"Yeah," Dean sighed, tugging off his suit jacket and tossing it onto the bed. "It would be so much easier to get information and keep watch for future kills if the real Feds weren't here."

"Yeah, I know," Sam agreed. "Let's get out of these suits and order something for dinner before we head over there. I'm not up to going out again until we have to, and I don't want to risk running into more federal agents."

"Agreed," Dean said. "You can use the bathroom first. I'll order dinner."

"Sounds good," Sam said through gritted teeth as he kneaded at his back again.

Dean sighed, fed up with watching Sam ride out the aches that came with pregnancy, and crossed to stand behind him, fingers deftly nudging Sam's away and beginning to work out tense muscles. This time, the pregnant Omega didn't resist, groaning in relief as his big brother expertly eased the pain.

"I don't get how you can even _get_ back pain; you have no belly," Dean teased. "Actually, come to think of it, you haven't had much back pain at all the whole pregnancy."

"I know, it's weird," Sam said on a sigh as Dean's fingers found a particularly sore spot. "God, that feels so much better."

Too soon, Dean pulled away, gently nudging his brother toward the bathroom. "Go change; get comfy. I'll order dinner then I'll give you a better massage after dinner," he offered.

"'Kay," Sam mumbled, already relaxed considerably, and made his way into the bathroom.

An hour and a half later, they'd changed, eaten, and Dean had given Sam a full back massage, relaxing the Omega enough that he'd fallen asleep. Dean was okay with that. They still had a couple hours before nightfall, and if Sam was asleep, his back couldn't bother him. Sam actually slept until just after dark when Dean finally woke him so they could head out.

As they drove around the neighborhood surrounding the place the last victim disappeared from, Sam pulled up an app on his phone that allowed him to listen to the local police scanner, hoping they'd hear about any other calls matching a vampire attacks before the Feds did. If they could catch their vampires, the disappearances and kills would stop and the Feds would leave.

They'd been out less than an hour when they heard a call in their area that sounded vamp-y and drove in that direction. Luckily, they managed to make it without hearing sirens. Dean parked the car a safe distance away, and they quickly walked the street, looking for any escaping vampires.

Instead, they found the vampire's discarded meal.

The unlucky victim was a Beta woman in her early twenties. They found her in an alley, her throat bloody while she gasped and gagged for breath. Sam immediately lowered himself to kneel beside her, taking off his outer coat – thankful his flannel still hid his belly – to press it to her bleeding throat without cutting off her air supply any more than the damage was already doing.

"You're okay, miss," he soothed as she lifted a shaky hand.

She shook her head and pointed toward the left of the alley entrance, trying to choke out words.

"Your attacker?" Dean asked, kneeling behind Sam to see the girl better in the almost non-existent lighting.

The girl nodded, her eyes wide with fear.

"I'll look," Dean said, clapping Sam on the shoulder as he stood though he had no hope they'd find the vampire after this long. "Stay with her; we can't leave her alone like this, and you're in no condition to be chasing a vamp."

"Dean, what if the Feds show up?" Sam asked, lowering his voice. "We're not exactly their friends."

Dean hesitated, hating to have to leave his pregnant brother alone and practically defenseless, but this was probably their only shot at catching the vampire responsible for the attacks. Besides, they'd been arrested and gotten away before. Even from other federal agents. Sam could always talk his way out, and Dean would at least be on the outside if Sam _did_ get arrested.

"Look, I know it sucks, but this is our only shot. If the Feds do show up, you can talk your way out. And if you can't, I'll be on the outside, I know where you are, and I can get you out," Dean explained before hurrying out of the alley, not giving his brother time to argue.

Sam sighed in annoyance but quickly returned his attention to the dying woman on the ground, doing his best to soothe her while keeping an eye out for sirens, an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

He'd only been sitting with the girl for five minutes when he heard sirens approach. Three different black SUVs pulled into the street outside the alley and six people, all in Kevlar vests that said FBI on the fronts, poured out and into the alley. The hunter's eyes widened as they all aimed guns at him.

"FBI! Put your hands in the air," a black man commanded, stepping closer and aiming his gun between Sam's eyes.

Sam carefully raised his free hand, leaving the other on his coat on the woman's throat. "If I let go, she's going to bleed more. I promise you, I didn't do this," he said calmly. "I found her like this. I'm only trying to help."

"Hands up," the black man commanded again. "We'll take care of her."

Sam glanced at the girl with an apologetic expression, then carefully lifted the hand that had been on her neck.

Almost instantly, the man holstered his gun only to come up with a pair of handcuffs which he quickly clasped onto one of Sam's wrists before yanking both arms behind Sam's back to clasp the other wrist, making the hunter wince and grit his teeth in discomfort. As soon as he was cuffed, a black woman and a blonde woman hurried to the girl's side and took over helping her while the man that cuffed him shoved him out of the alley toward one of the SUVs.

"Wait a second," a slender man with unruly brown hair said thoughtfully as soon Sam was shoved into the street, through a pool of light from a streetlamp. He missed whatever else the young man said as the black man pushed him into one of the SUVs.

Having his hands cuffed behind his back made the backache that was making itself known again intensify. After having relief for a couple hours after Dean's massage and a nap, the ache seemed even worse, and he fought the urge to squirm in discomfort as the pain seemed to radiate down into his hips.

He wasn't left alone long before the man that had handcuffed him and a man that seemed to be of Italian descent slid into the SUV on either side of him, and a dark-haired man and the slender young man got in front. The hunter immediately tensed at the strong scent of Alpha that filled the car. At least two of these men were Alphas. The Italian and the smaller man up front didn't seem to have a scent, so that meant the black man and the dark haired man driving were Alphas. The other two were either Beta or Omegas wearing some kind of scent blockers.

The drive was silent and tense. Despite a throb of pain shooting down his spine and hips now and then, Sam kept quiet and forced himself to stay still. He kept his head bowed, letting his hair hide his face, and forced himself to breathe evenly. Not soon enough, though, they finally pulled into the parking lot of the police station, and he was being manhandled from the car by the black agent. He and the dark haired man that drove led him to an interview room. He resisted the urge to groan in relief as one side of the cuffs was removed, allowing his arms to come to a more natural resting state. They shoved him into the uncomfortable mental chair and attached the other end of the handcuffs to the table.

Without a word, the two agents exited the room, leaving Sam alone and confused.

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"How do we handle this?" Rossi asked once Morgan and Hotch reentered the main room.

"He's an Omega, so either Morgan or myself try to intimidate him," Hotch said, "or we try a friendlier approach – send Reid in to appeal to him, Omega to Omega."

"No way; we are not sending Reid in there," Morgan countered. "Hotch, he may be an Omega, but he's _Sam Winchester._ Reid recognized him from the news from four years ago. He told you on the scene what Sam and his brother did, and they weren't inconspicuous about it. These sickos _wanted_ the world to see their murder spree. And then we catch him in the middle of another murder investigation? I'm betting it's been him and his brother this whole time. I say we intimidate him. You and me."

"Alright," Hotch agreed. "Let's try it that way first. Rossi, call JJ and Lewis. See how the victim is doing and if she'll be able to tell us anything about her attack. If Sam won't tell us where his brother is, she might have seen which direction he went."

Rossi nodded and walked away to make the call while Morgan and Hotch slipped into the interview room. Reid stayed outside to watch, observing their suspect for clues that might help them, and ready just in case he was needed.

"Sam Winchester," Hotch said as he and Morgan entered the room. "Imagine our surprise when one of my agents recognized you from your murder spree years ago. You and your brother were dead at the end of it yet here you are."

Sam only shrugged.

"Maybe you can enlighten me on something though," Hotch continued as he slid into the seat across from Sam while Morgan stood beside his superior, arms crossed and glaring at Sam. "You and your brother made it onto the FBI's Most Wanted list several years prior to that little spree of yours, managed to evade law enforcement for years, made your murders public, faked your deaths and got away, and then got caught trying to _save_ a victim? Why, Sam? Why try to save her?"

"Because we didn't hurt her," Sam said firmly though without raising his voice, glaring at the table between them. "I told you, I found her like that; I was trying to keep her alive."

" _You_ found her. _You_ were trying to save her. What about Dean?" Hotch asked calmly. "Where is Dean, Sam?"

Sam pressed his lips into a thin line, refusing to answer.

" _Where_ is Dean?" Morgan snarled, leaning forward to smack both palms down onto the table.

Sam huffed in obvious amusement. "You're trying Good Cop, Bad Cop on me?"

"Where. Is. Dean?" Morgan growled.

"I don't know," Sam sighed, shifting in his seat.

"I highly doubt that," Hotch interjected. "You and your brother are clearly inseparable. I don't think you'd separate without knowing where the other is or how to get back to each other."

"Unless Dean doesn't tell you everything," Morgan added, trying to goad Sam into getting angry and revealing something useful. "Yeah, you're just his little Omega brother, right? He gets you to do whatever he wants you to do, and you go along with it, right?"

Sam's brow furrowed and he bit his lower lip, glaring at the table.

"Dean's an Alpha, isn't he, Sam?" Hotch added. "And you're an Omega. I could smell it at the scene and in the car. Does he control you, Sam? Does he use his Alpha voice to force you into submission?"

"You can think whatever you want about what we do, but Dean is a _good_ Alpha and brother. He would _never_ hurt me," Sam growled before clamping his mouth shut as if he'd said something he hadn't meant to.

"So, Dean _is_ an Alpha. And he doesn't use that against you? I mean, you're bigger than he is, Sam. Physically, you're equal to Dean. He must have some kind of hold over you to make you kill for him," Hotch said.

Sam remained silent, lips pressed into a thin line. Neither agent missed how Sam hadn't met either man's eyes the entire time they'd been in the room. He'd kept his own on the table in front of him.

"You said 'we' didn't hurt that girl," Hotch said, switching topics. "If you and Dean didn't hurt her, who did?"

Sam glared harder at the table and shifted in his seat again.

"Can you please let me walk around?" he practically begged.

"Hell, no," Morgan snarled. "You think we're stupid enough to let a _Winchester_ go uncuffed?"

"You're two Alphas and I'm an Omega," Sam growled. "If I did try anything – which I _won't_ – you could easily restrain me."

"You stay where you are," Hotch said with finality. "Now, answer the question. If you and Dean aren't responsible for the murders here, who is?"

Sam breathed harshly through his nose, firmly biting his lip and glaring at the table.

"Answer the damn question!" Morgan shouted, leaning close to the Omega, practically into his personal space.

Sam minutely shook his head, a shudder rolling through him.

"Morgan," Hotch said, rising and motioning for the other agent to follow him out.

The two exited the room, Morgan sighing and rubbing a hand down his face once they were out of sight of their suspect.

"Should have known the son of a bitch wouldn't be easy to crack," he complained.

"He may not be saying much, but he's not as impervious as he'd like you to think," Reid said, still watching Sam through the mirror. "He keeps biting his lip or pressing them tightly as if he's trying to physically hold something back."

"We did get a reaction when we started talking about Dean," Hotch added. "And they have a very close relationship. Maybe we should try that angle."

"I'll call Garcia and see what she can dig up," Morgan offered, already pulling out his phone. "The more we have on his brother, the more we might get out of Sam."

SPNxCM~CMxSPN

Sam nearly sighed in relief when the two agents left the room. He tried to minimize his shifting, knowing that would make him look suspicious, but his back and hips hurt and he could feel the pain radiating around to his lower belly. When he'd felt the first twinges there, he'd had to bite his lip to keep from groaning in frustrated defeat. The chances that he was in labor were very high, and through the interrogation, he'd done his best to hide the twinges that came off and on.

Samhoped Dean would find him before his labor progressed too far; he didn't want to find out what the agents would do if they found out he was in labor. They'd probably take him to a hospital which wouldn't really be a bad thing if he thought about it. He was already in Federal custody, so hospital personnel recognizing him wouldn't get him much more attention than he already had. But if Dean failed to find him before he delivered, Sam feared the agents would take away his baby, and he couldn't lose his child.

Another sharp pain raced down his back, and he felt it more into his belly that time, a tightening that rolled from top to bottom, leaving no muscle from his ribs to his hips relaxed. He bowed his head, letting his hair fall forward to hide his face, and forced himself to breathe evenly. The metal chair did little to ease the pain in his hips, but he forced himself to remain still, clenching and unclenching his fists under the table. When the pain finally receded, he blew out a breath, leaning forward the best he could to rest his forehead against the arm that wasn't cuffed to the underside of the table. He was so tired and sore.

Sam _really_ hoped Dean would find him soon.

SPNxCM~CMxSPN

"Let's see," Garcia said, elongating the second word as she quickly entered information into her computer. "Dean Winchester, born January twenty-fourth, 1979, to John and Mary Winchester in Lawrence, Kansas. Four years later, on May second, 1983, Sam Winchester was born, uh… oh."

"What?" Morgan asked, not liking the melancholy way that "oh" had come out.

"Uhh, looks like Mary Winchester died exactly six months after Sam was born. November second, 1983, in a house fire," Garcia explained. "After that, it's like John and the boys just vanished. Any cards in his or Mary's names lapsed within the year, house payments stopped, and he never repaired it after the fire… Looks like it eventually found its way to a new owner who repaired it and resold it."

"How could they just disappear?" Morgan asked. "What about school?"

"I'm checking that now," Garcia said before going silent for a second as she typed away. "Oh, wow. Okay, the boys show up several times all over the midwest in small town schools. Looks like they're never there for more than two or three months. Sometimes, as short as a week or two."

"What can you tell us about their school life?" Hotch asked, raising his voice slightly to be picked up by the speaker of Morgan's phone which the younger agent held between them.

"I can tell you that Dean didn't attend as much," Garcia added. "His attendance record is full of absences and tardies, and his grades were all D's or F's, and it looks like… it all just stops around the time he turned sixteen."

"So, he dropped out," Reid concluded. "What about Sam?"

"Sam is clearly smart," said Garcia. "In every school they went to, he had nearly perfect attendance, and his grades never went lower than a C. From what I can tell, Sam _did_ finish school, and… Wow."

"What'd you find?" Hotch asked.

"Sam Winchester got a full ride to _Stanford_ ," Garcia said, awe coloring her voice. "But it looks like he never finished. He had less than a year left."

"So, Sam is clearly smart," Morgan said. "Why didn't he finish?"

"I'm digging," Garcia promised. "According to records, looks like he had an interview set up for their law school, but never showed. There was a fire in the apartment he was renting… Oh. There was one casualty of that fire: another college student named Jessica Moore. After that, Sam just… disappeared. I can't find anything on the boys after Dean turned sixteen, and after Sam disappeared from school."

"You think Dean had something to do with Sam leaving Stanford?" Morgan asked.

"Given the relationship we know of between them," Hotch said, "I'd say yes."

"Oh, wait a minute," Garcia added. "John died in 2006. He and the boys were admitted to a hospital with injuries consistent with a car accident. Dean almost didn't make it," she said in that sad voice she often used when bad things happened to children or small animals. "Intake records indicate he was unconscious with minimal brain function. He'd been put on machines to keep him alive, and then, several hours later, he woke up, perfectly fine."

"That's not possible," Reid muttered, sounding almost offended that he couldn't think of a logical medical reason for a recovery like that.

"So, Sam's life is full of loss, he gets out and goes to Stanford, his roommate dies, and his brother finds him again," Hotch said. "You think he's with Dean against his will?"

"I don't think so," Reid countered, shaking his head. "Sam is too protective of Dean. You heard how he defended him when you suggested Dean was using his Alpha nature to control Sam. I think Sam genuinely care about his brother."

"That's all I got, guys," Garcia said mournfully. "The two of them are so far off the grid; there are no more records of them."

"Thanks, Garcia," Hotch said before disconnecting the call. "I want to try sending in Reid. Clearly, trying to intimidate him isn't working. Perhaps appealing to him might."

Reid nodded and was about to head back to the interrogation room when Rossi rejoined them.

"JJ said the victim made it to the hospital just fine," he informed them. "She's going in for surgery to try to repair what they can of her neck."

"Was she able to tell them who attacked her?" Morgan asked.

Rossi nodded. "Yeah, and it wasn't Sam Winchester. He's telling the truth – he found her there and was just trying to save her. JJ and Tara also asked if Dean was with Sam when they arrived; she said yes. But she wasn't able to tell them where he went."

"Alright, you and Morgan rejoin JJ and Lewis," Hotch instructed. "Take some of the officers and canvas the area. We need to find Dean Winchester."

SPNxCM~CMxSPN

Sam fought to catch his breath as another contraction faded, leaving him hunched over his belly, both hands white-knuckling the edge of the table. He was unable to bite back a whimper of fear when he felt the baby shifting lower into his pelvis, knowing he was getting closer to delivery. There was no way he was escaping on his own, and he had no idea how close Dean was to finding him. But he couldn't deliver his baby here.

He forced himself to sit upright when the door opened once more. Instead of the two Alpha agents, the younger agent Sam had seen when they'd arrested him entered. Unlike in the SUV where Sam hadn't been able to scent this man and the Italian man, Sam could smell this man. Another Omega.

"Hi, Sam," the Omega said softly as he sat across from the hunter. "I'm Dr. Reid. You can call me Spencer if you want."

Sam only shrugged.

"I'm very curious about you, Sam," Dr. Reid continued. "We did a little digging. Your school records show you're very intelligent, Sam. Good grade, perfect attendance in the schools you went to. You even went to _Stanford_. Why didn't you finish?"

A pang of loss made Sam's heart ache for a moment. Whenever he thought of Stanford, he thought of Jessica, of the fire. Of what could have been.

"If you know about Stanford, you know about the fire," he mumbled.

Dr. Reid nodded, clasping his hands atop the case folder he had yet to open. "I do. A young woman died in that fire. Your roommate?"

"She was my girlfriend," Sam admitted, the weariness and persistent ache left by the progressing contraction making him forget why he shouldn't say anything. "I was going to marry her."

"I'm sorry," Dr. Reid said, and Sam thought he genuinely meant it. "Is Jessica's death why you didn't finish school?"

Sam nodded, deciding that was close enough to the truth. If Jess hadn't died – if Brady hadn't killed her because Azazel told him to – Sam wouldn't have started hunting again. He would have finished school, become a lawyer, married Jess…

"Where did you go then?" Dr. Reid asked.

"With Dean," Sam mumbled, feeling another contraction building. He rubbed his free hand across the lower part of his small bump, trying to keep his breathing natural. He must have done alright enough to look as disinterested as he had since they put him in this room because Dr. Reid didn't seem to notice anything was wrong.

"Does Dean tell you what to do a lot, Sam?" he asked.

Sam shrugged. Maybe. Probably. He couldn't remember through the building pain and pressure making itself known in his pelvis. But Dean was older, so he got to be the boss sometimes, and he probably told Dean what to do almost as much, too.

"We know you were telling the truth in the alley. You really were just saving her, weren't you?" Dr. Reid asked.

Sam nodded, tucking his chin to his chest and letting his hair hide his face even further.

"Sam? You can talk to me, you know," the other Omega offered. "See, I don't think you and Dean killed anyone here."

Before Sam could question that statement, he felt a release of pressure then wetness in his pants. He hadn't even had a chance to process before another contraction surged through him, his belly hardening from top to base, every muscle pulling down. This time, he felt the pain more intensely without the amniotic sac providing a barrier. He couldn't stop a cry of pain as his body bore down without his consent, feeling his baby's head pressing at his entrance.

"Sam?" Dr. Reid called in alarm, pushing to his feet and quickly rounding the table. "Sam, what's wrong?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Sam quickly assured as he fought to catch his breath only to cry out again when another contraction forced his body to push which made the pain even worse.

Despite wanting to hide it, he knew he couldn't anymore. His body was forcing his baby out, and he needed to push. He fumbled with his pants, abandoning all pretense of being okay, and threw his head back with a groan as he went with his body's demand to push. Somehow, it hurt a little less when he didn't fight it.

Sam vaguely heard Dr. Reid calling for help then felt the other man's hands pushing his away. Instead of helping him remove his pants, Dr. Reid quickly removed the cuff linking him to the table then pulled him down to the floor. Then he tugged Sam' pants down and nudged his knees apart.

"Breathe, Sam," he gently instructed.

Sam whimpered as he bore down again, fighting to breathe through it. When the contraction eased up, he noticed the older Alpha from earlier had entered the room and was offering Dr. Reid a pair of latex gloves. Then he deposited a blanket beside Sam and slipped between Sam and the wall and propped him up.

"It's okay, Sam," the Alpha soothed, keeping his voice calm and low. Sam both hated and appreciated that. He wanted it to be Dean, but he didn't want to do this alone, and it calmed him to have an Alpha present.

Another contraction forced him to push, and he quickly obeyed, barely registering Dr. Reid's instruction to keep pushing. He focused on the Alpha behind him – Agent Hotchner, his foggy brain supplied. Agent Hotchner's voice remained calm and soothing. This time, when Sam pushed, he felt a stretching, burning sensation between his legs and immediately stopped pushing even though the contraction hadn't ended.

"Keep pushing, Sam," Dr. Reid gently reminded.

"Hurts," Sam whimpered. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Your baby's crowning," Dr. Reid explained. "Keep pushing."

Sam whined but resumed pushing for what little of the contraction was left. He pushed with a few more contractions before he felt a relief of pressure. Dr. Reid announced that the head was out, and Sam let his head drop back onto Agent Hotchner's shoulder, exhausted already. He felt Agent Hotchner's hands at his belly, and he gave a weak snarl, pushing them away. No one but Dean was allowed to touch his belly.

"Sorry," Agent Hotchner soothed, gently taking Sam's hands and instructing him to squeeze.

Sam did so, hard, as another contraction took hold of him. Dr. Reid encouraged him to continue pushing, and he felt his baby's shoulders being worked free followed quickly by the rest of the baby. Relief washed over him as the baby was placed on his chest while Agent Hotchner released his hands to grab the blanket to cover them. Sam immediately put his hands on his baby who already began wailing.

"Dean was right," he said through a grin after checking underneath the blanket. "It was a girl."

Sam didn't pay any attention to the agents around him after that, too captivated by his daughter. He could see small parts of the Alpha that fathered her – the shape of her nose, the color of her eyes – but he saw a lot of himself in her, too, and that made him so very happy. As he watched her, she opened her eyes and peered up at him, her mouth falling open. The sight made Sam chuckle.

"You two really aren't part of the murders here, are you?" Agent Hotchner asked after a few minutes of silence.

"What?" Sam asked, tilting his head to one side to look at the Alpha.

"You and Dean," Agent Hotchner said. "Dr. Reid doesn't think you're killers. You really haven't killed anyone, have you?"

Sam shook his head, returning his attention back to his daughter. "Not in the way you're thinking, no. We kill, but only the monsters. There are things in the world you and your team don't know about, Agent Hotchner. Dean and I hunt those things."

"What monster is doing the killing here?" Dr. Reid asked.

"Vampires," Sam said simply. "We found that girl in the alley and knew the vampire that tried killing her would be nearby. Dean went after it, hoping to find the nest before one of you got killed going after the person responsible."

"What about the murders you committed and had filmed a few years ago?" asked the Omega.

"Those weren't Dean and me," Sam said. "Those were creatures called Leviathans. They're like shapeshifters, but worse. They can take the form of anyone. Two of them took our forms and started killing people Dean and I saved since I left Stanford – in the exact order. They were hoping we'd be forced to hide from the cops so they could continue to, basically, take over the world and turn people into their cattle."

"And when you left Stanford," Agent Hotchner said. "What really made you leave a bright future like that?"

"As I told Dr. Reid, I was going to marry Jessica," Sam said, tightening his hold on his now sleeping daughter slightly. He hated talking about this, but if it helped he and Dean walk free, he'd tell Agent Hotchner anything he wanted to know. "The fire was caused by a demon named Brady on the orders of another demon named Azazel. They wanted me back into hunting and could tell I wouldn't get back into it if I married Jess."

"How do I know you're telling the truth about all of this?" Agent Hotchner asked skeptically.

"You don't, I guess," Sam said with a slight shrug. "I'm telling you the truth. Dean and I keep people safe."

After a pause, Agent Hotchner said, "I guess I'll just have to trust you then."

Sam lifted his gaze from the baby and frowned in confusion before turning to look at the Alpha behind him. "What?"

"I guess I'll just have to trust you," Agent Hotchner repeated. "I don't know how I know, but I know you and Dean aren't murderers. Well, murderers of innocent people."

"Does this mean I can go and you'll leave Dean alone?"

The Alpha holding onto him nodded. "Yes. I'll find a way to facilitate an escape for you both. The world needs you two in it; not in a cell."

SPNxCM~CMxSPN

Sam sighed in relief as he slipped into the Impala, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. He heard his door close then heard the creak and slam of the driver's side door being opened then closed.

"Don't go falling asleep on me now, Sammy," Dean chuckled as the car roared to life. "It's a long drive back to the bunker. And I just took out an entire nest on my own, but I don't get to sleep."

"I _gave birth_ less than twelve hours ago," Sam said. "I can sleep all I want."

Dean chuckled and glanced over his shoulder at the car seat that contained his newborn niece.

After the birth and his discussion with Agent Hotchner and Dr. Reid, Sam had been taken to the hospital where he and the baby had been examined. Luckily, both were perfectly healthy. Agent Hotchner had placed Agent Morgan as a guard to Sam's room after all his men had been informed of the plan. It had taken some convincing on Sam's part to prove that he was telling the truth about monsters and hunting, but in the end, the team had taken his side and agreed to help him escape.

Informed of the truth, when Agent Rossi and Agent Jareau and Dr. Lewis found Dean, they told him about the birth and that he was going to the hospital to meet his brother and niece. On the way, they told him of the escape plan. Once he was with Sam, they'd be left alone with Agent Morgan outside their room to keep up the pretense of being guarded. Once the coast was clear, the agent would let them go, asking Dean to knock him out to make it look like an escape.

After that, the other agents helped them sneak out of the hospital undetected and into a waiting SUV that took them to their car where they surprised him with a car seat one of them had managed to purchase in all the commotion. And one of them had learned from a doctor that the girl they found in the alley was going to live. After thanking the agents, they drove back to the motel to gather their belongings and were now headed home.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," Dean said turning back to his brother as he eased out of the motel parking lot.

"It's okay, Dean," Sam said. "You're here now."

Dean hummed in vague agreement, still not liking that he hadn't been there, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. They drove in silence for a while, and Sam had almost fallen asleep when Dean spoke up again.

"You know, Sammy, she still needs a name."


End file.
